


I'm Falling for You, Apparently

by azrael_deaths_angel



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Established Realtionship, Fluff, Gen, Gertrude is horrible at filing, It just sorta happened, Jon Has A Cane, Jon is clumsy, M/M, Martin and Jon are both very tall and adorable about it, Martin making tea, S1, but they don't really talk about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22912678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azrael_deaths_angel/pseuds/azrael_deaths_angel
Summary: Warning! Mild spoilers for Season 1. I'm usually good at summaries, but this time it's pretty much all in the tags. Also not beta'd yet so please forgive any mistakes.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 12
Kudos: 146





	I'm Falling for You, Apparently

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NonbinaryNerdbot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NonbinaryNerdbot/gifts).



> Inspired by the head canon of Jon and Martin by NonbinaryNerdbot. Go check out their Magnus fics, too.

Jon had been miserable all day. His leg was bothering him and Gertrude's organization system, if it could even be called that, was giving him the beginnings of a head-splitting migraine. It didn't help that Martin had been bouncing around the Archives all morning in a very cheerful mood, despite the fact that they were still surrounded by worms and he was still sleeping in the Archives. He had popped in a few minutes earlier, his gentle giant bumbling self asking if Jon had wanted tea, he was going to go make some.

Jon had agreed just to get him to leave. He couldn't handle the puppy-like energy right now. And despite what it may have seemed, Jon could feel the nervous tension underneath all the bouncing around and generally being-happy-despite-the-situation. Martin was good at hiding it from the others and he certainly tried to hide it from Jon, but he always knew.

He could see it in the slightly pinched way that Martin held his shoulders or the way he flinched, even if only fractionally, when a weird sound came from anywhere or anyone. And the Archive made a lot of those without a supernatural worm infestation much less with one. So Jon was stuck in said worm-infested archive with one over-sized, overeager, and trying-not-to-hide-it-but-really-kinda-nervous assistant. Jon sighed. It was only Tuesday, he was working late, and he just wanted to go home and get his damn leg to quit hurting. That wasn't really an option, though. Not with all the worms and he knew it.

He got up to go pull some more statements to read and just as he was carrying back a box that was surprisingly organized, Martin walked in with his tea. He set it on Jon's desk and turned to leave. Then, in one of the weirder happenstances that Jon has been in since working for the Magnus Institute, his foot, or his cane, he was never sure which, caught on a slightly loose floorboard that sent him toppling into Martin and the once reasonably organized box flying to the floor, scattering it contents everywhere.

It took Jon a moment to register that he had not hit the floor, but something altogether much taller and much more human than the cold wood beneath him. He tried to straighten himself up, but to not much avail.

Just stood there, holding onto Jon's arms looking down at him and asking him if he was alright. Jon was actually just slightly taller than Martin, but liked to slouch, so no one could tell who was taller, but in this state, he certainly wasn't taller than him now or even feeling that he was. Martin helped stand him up to his full slouching height and picked up Jon's cane while keeping a hand on his arm and then handed it back to him. Jon mumbled his thanks for handing him back the cane and for the tea and went to pick up the fallen box of papers. Without a word, Martin just laid his hand on Jon's shoulder and shook his head. He bent down and picked up all the papers for him and put them back in the box, neat and tidy, although probably not organized. He set it on Jon's desk and turned to him, "Go home Jon. You're probably going to be sore and you look like hell. You need to sleep."

"Thank you, Martin, but I was planning on finishing another box at least before going home. I was just hoping to find a semi-organized box, and I found one," he gestured to the fallen box, now on his desk, "But it seems that will be foolish to assume now. Probably foolish to have assumed that anything in this blasted archive could have been reasonably filed."

Martin was more stern this time, his tone brooking no argument, "Jon. Go. Home. You need to rest. You look exhausted and you are getting that pinch in the middle of your forehead when you start to get a migraine. And I don't think I've been any help, since…"

Since he moved into the Archive. Jon wanted to agree, but cared about Martin too much to ever say it to his face, no matter how much it had been true. He could never stay mad at Martin for long. He gave a weak smile and agreed to go home.

Life returned to normal after the little incident. Jon managed to get the dropped box of files back in order and recorded, Martin was still living in the Archives, and the worms were still wiggling outside. But it was about a week later that Jon was trying to pull a box down from one of the higher shelves. It was a day that he had been leaning more heavily on his cane than usual and didn’t want to go up too high on the ladder. He tried reaching the box he was going for without moving up another step, when he overreached and overbalanced, sending him toppling to the floor.

It was late and Martin had already turned in for the night, so he heard the crash that came from the Archives’ document storage and went running. He burst into the dusty, dark room and hunted for the source of the noise, fire extinguisher at the ready. He rounded the corner, nozzle pointed ahead of him, and nearly pulled the trigger on Jon.

“No! Martin! It’s me! It’s Jon. Don’t spray me.”

“Jon? What are you still doing here,” he asked as he lowered the makeshift worm-fighting weapon.

“I was getting some more recording done. And I… I didn’t really want to go home.” He gestured to the extinguisher in Martin’s hands, who finally lowered it realizing it was still aimed at Jon.

“Ye- Um. Yeah. Of course. Can you get up or do you want some help?”

“I-I’d, um, like some help. My leg is weak and I don’t think I can get it under me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. I noticed you were leaning on your cane more than usual today.”

“It’s been bothering me more lately. I would say it’s due to the weather, but…”

“It could also be the stress,” Martin supplied for him. Jon meekly nodded. He hated showing weakness to his coworkers, and certainly not Martin. But that was part of the agreement that they made wasn’t it? Martin would be Jon’s rock when he needed one, but he had to admit it first or Martin couldn’t help.

Martin set down the fire extinguisher and walked over to him, getting down on one knee. “Can you sit up at least?” Jon got up on his elbows and slowly worked his way up, with some help from Martin. “Here. Wrap your arms around my neck.”

“Martin…”

“It’s fine, Jon. Please. Let me help you. We talked about this.”

Jon hung his head for a moment and then nodded and wrapped his arms around Martin’s neck. Martin wrapped a hand around his back and scooped him up almost effortlessly, guiding Jon’s legs around his waist and keeping on hand at his back for support. Jon’s face flamed and he buried it in Martin’s shoulder.

His muffled voice came from Martin’s shoulder, “Don’t tell anyone about this, Martin. Please.”

“Of course not, Jon.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. No one else will know about this.” He felt the small smile against his shoulder and smiled in turn. It was only then that he realized that he had run through the Institute in nothing but his boxers with bedhead and a fire extinguisher held out in front of him. He started to laugh as he picked up Jon’s cane and carried him towards the little room that contained Martin’s cot.

“What’s so funny,” came Jon’s muffled, but disgruntled, voice, his face still hidden in Martin’s shaking shoulder.

“I just realized I probably looked like an absolute idiot running in here.” He chuckled again and felt a small laugh form in Jon’s chest, pressed against his own. By the time they got to Martin’s little room, they were both having trouble breathing because they were laughing so hard. Martin gently set Jon on his cot and left his cane next to him. He ran back and got the extinguisher and came back to Jon laying on his cot, half asleep. Martin smiled.

Jon’s eyes fluttered open, “Ah. Um. Martin. I, uh, I just…I’ll just go back to my desk.” He sat up quickly and scratched the back of his neck and looked away sheepishly as he started to get up. Martin smiled a little more, and put a large, gentle hand on Jon’s chest, practically pinning him to the cot, and climbed in next to him. He stretched out on his side and put a hand on Jon’s shoulder, encouraging him to lay down next to him. Jon did and snuggled back into Martin’s shoulder, his big arms wrapped protectively around him, his gangling legs tangled in Martin’s. He fell asleep quickly and slept better than he had in weeks. He fell asleep feeling _safe_ for the first time in weeks. Martin quickly followed him. If Tim happened to see them like that the next morning because Martin forgot to close the door, he, rather uncharacteristically, didn’t say anything. He just closed the door quietly and went about his work with a rather curiously content smile on his face for the rest of the day.


End file.
